


Drabbles from the Joeun Koom Drabble Wars

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, Dir en grey, F. T. Island, JYJ (Band), SHINee, Super Junior, the GazettE (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24060250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: A series of short drabbles from a contest we used to hold back in the day. These are all originally posted on https://joeun-kkoom.livejournal.com.Tags and pairings will be in the story prompts.
Kudos: 1





	Drabbles from the Joeun Koom Drabble Wars

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](https://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

_Forbidden Music  
Yoochun/Hongki  
High School  
Older!Yoochun, Under18!Hongki_

A voice echoed through the auditorium.

Yoochun stopped sweeping and listened. Notes joined, rolled up and over each other. There was no music, just the voice. On key, until the end, when a harsh, out-of-tune note broke through the perfection.

Curious, Yoochun climbed the short flight of stairs to the stage. He peered around the heavy folds of curtains.

A young man kneeled on the darkened stage. A dim light on the other side of the stage cast a glow around him. His back rose and fell in gasps that ricocheted through the empty room.

Yoochun leaned on his broom and watched while the young man tried to regain control of his emotions. Dark hair fell around his pale skin. His cheeks burned red.

“You have a nice voice,” Yoochun said, quiet voice loud in the emptiness.

The kid jerked, and stood quickly, wiping his eyes. He was gorgeous, like most of the kids at this school.

“That song really was beautiful,” Yoochun continued as the other walked backwards, face scared. It took a moment for Yoochun to recognize him. Lee Hongki. Second in his class in every subject. Class vice-president. This was not a music school.

His uniform was rumpled, his pants wrinkled. During school hours, no student would be allowed to look like that.

“Y-you won’t tell anyone?” he begged, half hoping.

Yoochun smiled. “No. I won’t. But if you’re trying to keep it a secret, you probably shouldn’t sing in the auditorium where your voice reverberates everywhere.”

He ducked his head in shame.

“Your voice is beautiful,” Yoochun said, finally moving toward the skittish boy.

“I wanted to …” He broke off and looked away.

“Your parents made you come here.”

He nodded.

“You’re an excellent student.”

“Only second best.”

Yoochun frowned at the bitterness in his voice. He knew that parental pressure was bad for high school students, but to be second best at one of the most prestigious private schools in South Korea shouldn’t have been a bad thing.

“You could be a janitor,” Yoochun said.

He glanced up quickly, and stared for a moment. His lips jerked in a self-deprecating smile. “I don’t think my parents would accept that rationalization.”

“Probably not. But it’s not for them. It’s for you. You’re smart, being in this school proves that.”

“You know who I am.”

Yoochun grinned. “Lee Hongki. I wipe dust off your picture in the student council office every day.”

He laughed, and then slammed his mouth shut, biting his lower lip against a smile.

Yoochun moved closer, and then into his personal space when he didn’t protest. They shared breaths.

“You’re just full of reasons for your parents to be disappointed,” Yoochun said, hand settling under his school jacket.

Hongki nodded.

“My name is Yoochun.”

“You could get fired.”

“You could get kicked out of school.”

Yoochun recognized the glint his Hongki’s eyes. The rebellion. He leaned closer.

Hongki’s breath puffed against his lips.

“Sing for me,” Yoochun whispered.

\-----

_One Man  
Yunho/Onew - Fast Food Restaurant  
Implied Prostitution_

“I like it when you come to visit me, hyung,” Onew says.

Yunho smiles and pops a fry into his mouth. “I’m proud of you, dongsaeng.”

“I’m glad I can help with the bills, hyung. You’re always so tired. You shouldn’t work so hard anymore.”

Yunho hides his grimace behind his hamburger. It is a perk of Onew’s new job: free food.

Onew eats a chicken nugget. A glob of sauce drops onto his uniform. Yunho wishes the uniform is gone so he can lick it off Onew’s chest. He wonders what Onew’s skin will taste like covered in barbeque sauce.

He can’t bear himself to think on that further. Onew is his roommate. That’s all. He sullied himself too much to be the owner of Onew’s heart. He loves the younger man. Fell in love with his wide smile and innocence. They met by chance, while Yunho was working a corner. But Onew had no idea what Yunho did. Hasn’t figured it out even now, months later. He let Onew move in so he’d have an excuse not to bring his tricks home anymore.

The money is good. Too good to stop. But he wonders what will happen when Onew figures it out. He wishes he can find the courage to tell him, to stop, to confess. He’s never wanted to stop before. He’s never wanted to be with only one man before.

Yunho sighs and takes a drink of soda. Onew is on the night shift tonight. He’ll be at work until after two in the morning. Plenty of time for Yunho to go to his usual corner. It’s Onew’s birthday soon. And if Onew won’t accept his heart, maybe Yunho will have enough money to splurge on an actual birthday gift.

\-----

_Best Appointment Ever  
Changmin/Eeteuk  
Cable guy_

Eeteuk knocks on the door of his last appointment in a long list of appointments.

The door swings open, and Eeteuk comes face to chest with one of the tallest men he’d ever seen. The man is bare-chested, jeans riding low on his hips.

Eetuek’s eyes soak in the sight of his tanned skin as he raises his gaze to the other man’s face. He’s beyond gorgeous, and he’s smiling, like he knows how attractive he is.

Eeteuk swallows and stammers, “I-I’m … ca-cable. B-broken. Fixer.”

The man smirks. “Come in, Eeteuk-shi.”

Eeteuk wants to ask how the man knows his name, and then remembers that it’s on his shirt. The man moves to the side and lets Eeteuk in. The door slams behind him. A moment later, Eeteuk finds himself against the door, breath rushing from his lungs, stolen by demanding lips. His work bag falls to the floor. His hands clench at the man’s muscled chest.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eeteuk-shi. My name is Changmin. Do you have any problems screaming that, or would you prefer to be gagged?”

Eeteuk’s mouth opens and closes while Changmin caresses his cheek.

“My cable isn’t broken. And I’m sure that this is your last call of the day.”

Eeteuk moans, head thunking against the door as Changmin grips his cock through his work pants.

“Can I bend you over my couch and make this the best appointment you’ve ever had, or should I sign your form and send you on your way, so you can go home and jerk off to internet porn about a lonely guy fucking the beautiful cable guy?”

Eeteuk may have been just a cable guy, but he wasn’t stupid. He grabbed the back of Changmin’s head, forced their lips together, and growled, “Gag me.”

\-----

_The Creation  
Junsu/Junsu  
Self-cest, doppleganger_

Dim light burned from an exposed bulb. Concrete walls chilled Junsu's palms. Comfort came from staring at his creator. Bound at wrists and ankles to a metal pole. Blindfolded, gagged. Drying come on his thighs and plump ass.

With his finger tips, Junsu followed the sweat dripping over pert nipples and sculpted abs. “I love your life. Fame, fangirls, Yoochun.”

His possession cried out when Junsu grabbed his swollen cock.

“You’re a slut for the fame. You don’t deserve their love. You deserve to be here, forever mine. Now, dance. I need more practice. Show me how to replace you.”

\----

_Shorter  
Reita/Uruha - the GazettE  
Crossdressing, dom/sub_

“It’s not short enough.”

Reita winced at the disapproval dripping through Uruha’s voice. He’d done his best. Plaid, pleated, red, hitting his thighs. Black, sheer thigh highs. Garter belt. Skimpy black camisole. And damn these high heels. How did Uruha walk around in them AND play his guitar at the same time?

“Shut your eyes.”

Reita did automatically.

“Hold your arms out.”

Again, he obeyed.

Uruha’s body heat came close, and he walked around Reita, hands touching various parts of his body.

“Definitely not short enough. But don’t worry. It is just as I asked for, so you are not in trouble. We just have to do a quick wardrobe adjustment.”

The skirt jerked to the side, and the unmistakable sound of scissors cutting through cloth rent the air.

Reita held completely still until Uruha was done, and he felt the cool air from the swamp cooler on even more skin. Sensitive skin.

Uruha touched his cock, with just a fingertip, lifting it up. Waiting. And Reita fought the urge to open his eyes. He hadn’t been given permission. Uruha’s face would be a cold mask of judgment anyway. A second finger joined the first. Retia shivered, and felt his cock slowly hardening.

Standing in this outfit, in front of Uruha who was wearing t-shirt and jeans like they were a thirty thousand dollar suit.

Cold fingers cupped his ass, and Reita was sure now that his ass was sticking out from under the skirt too.

Uruha snapped the garter and Reita hissed at the sudden sting on the back of his thighs.

“Now it looks sloppy. This just won’t do.”

Reita sighed. “Love, why don’t you just make your own skirt, since none of the ones I can buy are short enough?”

Uruha was silent and then lips pressed against his. Lips wet with gloss, turned in a small smile. “That, my beautiful doll, is a fantastic idea.” His hand slapped Retia’s cheek lightly. “Until then, take the skirt off and get on your knees.”

Reita swallowed roughly and did as Uruha told him. The ruined skirt was draped over his head and then tightened around his eyes.

“So much better, although.”

Oh god, what now?

“How adverse are you to waxing your ass?”

Reita choked on nothing. “U-Uruha! No way!”

He could just imagine Uruha shrugging in the silence. “Fine. But that’d be hot.”

“And me dressed like this and kneeling before you isn’t hot enough?”

“Good point.” Fingers tangled in his hair. “Now, suck me off into that pretty, painted mouth of yours.”

Reita opened his mouth and Uruha’s come-slippery cock slipped over his cheek, his lower lip and then into his mouth. When Uruha was done, Reita was going to have to fix his makeup.

\----

_Blue  
Aoi/Die - the Gazette, Dir en grey  
Angst, breaking up_

”It’s my favorite color,” Aoi whispered and ran a blue-painted nail up Die’s breastbone. “Please. It’s a perfect opportunity, since you guys are going all crazy anyway.”

“It’s visual-kei, Aoi-darling. Crazy is sort of expected.”

“Yes, then do it for me.” The cool metal of Aoi’s lip piercing followed the trail of his fingers, lips wet against his skin. “Blue will look great with your skin, and, every time I watch this video, it’ll show me how much you love me."

-/-

The others stared at Die for a few moments after he’d walked into the dressing room.

Shinya whistled in awe.

“Wow,” Toshiya said. “That’s insane even for me.”

Die ignored all four of and went to his vanity. He tugged at the dyed strands of hair, glaring at himself in the mirror.

Cowardly, maybe, but the bright red dye job would serve its purpose.

\-----


End file.
